Paper Angel
by FrankenWhale
Summary: AU In a world where there's no such things as ghosts and nothing goes bump in the night Dean, trying to cope with his parent's crumbling marriage and his mother's untimely death, begins to see an imaginary friend by the name of Cas. Wee-chesters to grown-ups
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi all! This is a fic my friend Pancake and I decided to collab over about a year ago and just got around to typing out. The first two chapters we wrote together going back and forth. After chapter two we switch off every chapter. Enjoy! Reviews are appreciated!

**March 1982, Lawrence, Kansas**

Dean Winchester had been a fairly normal child. He had been a bit more melodramatic than the other children on the play ground, and his imagination had been just a wee bit overactive, but for the most part he hadn't been anything truly special. He had known what he liked and what he didn't like, and while there were many things that he didn't like (like all of that nasty green stuff his mother tried to feed him), there were only three things that he could say he _really_ liked. Those things were pie, the custom Hot Wheels Impala that his father had gotten him for Christmas, and Cas. And, while the other two items were definitely far more important to him than anything else (other than family, of course), Cas had been his one true treasure in life. Because, without Cas, he wouldn't have become half of the man he is today.

—-

It was about two months after Dean had turned three, that Castiel first appeared to him. Back in the days when Hot Wheels were the only cars a guy needed, and shirts that said, "I Wuv Hugz," were completely acceptable wardrobe choices. It was a day that had started out as a rather upsetting one for the young Winchester. Mary and John Winchester had been having another fight. One that had began as something simple. John had forgotten to change one of the lightbulbs in the living room fan, and that had somehow morphed into a rather loud conversation about how he spent too many hours at the garage. And, as usual, Dean had been sent to the confines of his room for getting under their feet.

It hadn't been his fault that he was in their way though! He had been hungry! Yes, it may not have been the best time to be pestering his parents for a snack, but the monster in his tummy was not going to quit growling at him until one of them got him something to eat. His mother had given him a helpless smile at that explanation, but did little more to satisfy the beast that was his rumbling stomach. Apparently she had cared nothing about his well being, and would rather send him to his possible demise than spend the few minutes it would take for her to make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. So, there he sat with only his Hot Wheels and a small sippy cup of apple juice to tide him over until his parents were done with their latest spat.

Most of his time in this exile had been spent smashing a couple of the tiny cars into each other, and making some rather obnoxious explosion noises.

"Reeeee! Psssssshhhhhhwa! Pwaaaaaaah! Pooooosh!"

It wasn't until he heard the sound of flapping wings coming from the window behind him that he looked up from his pretend destruction. At first he thought that it might have been a large bird flying by. Like one of those geese that had chased him at the park after he had tried to generously share some of his applesauce with it. But, when he turned around, instead of some monstrous goose with razor sharp teeth aligning its beak there was a little boy, no older than four, perched atop his windowsill. Dean froze, his little black impala clutched protectively in a tiny fist, and stared.

Of course he knew that there should be something wrong about a little boy dressed in a yellow raincoat sitting in his bedroom window, but at the same time his tiny three year old mind was telling him that this was all perfectly acceptable. Looking the new child over one last time, from the messy black hair crushed under a floppy yellow rain hat, to the bright red Wellington's that were far too big for his feet, the little Winchester finally cast his eyes to the side.

"Hi…" He mumbled as if unsure of himself.

There was silence as the other boy stared with unnerving blue eyes, and Dean, self conscious, began to roll the small impala back and forth along the floor in front of him.

"You wanna play cars with me?" Dean finally asked in a quiet voice when the silence had become too much.

"How do you 'play cars?'" the mysterious child questioned after another moment of quiet.

"It's real easy!" Dean said, suddenly excited as he got up and went to the window to hand the other boy the orange car that he had been crashing into the impala earlier. "You jus' gotta roll them around and make some beepy noises, and sometimes some screechy noises! Because some cars go real fast!"

After that, the three year old dropped back down to the ground, and began to roll his car around on the floor beneath the new child's feet, making a few 'screeeee' sound effects as he did so. The dark haired boy looked slightly confused, but eventually began to roll his borrowed car over his knee.

"Beep, beep… Beep?" He looked to Dean for affirmation.

"Yeah! Like that!" Dean shouted, bringing the impala up and running it into the orange car. "Psssssssshck! Crash! Oh no! It's horrible! Pssssh!"

At this the new child just stared, seemingly lost as to what was going on, and Dean stopped with a tilt of his head.

"Say, what's you' name kid?"

The boy tilted his head in an imitation of Dean, and gave him a thoughtful look. "Castiel. My name is Castiel."

"Castle… Cas-steel…. Ca-caste," Dean sputtered in an attempt to pronounce the other's name. "No! Too hard!" He finally said, his face all red from thinking too hard. "Imma jus' call you Cas."

Castiel narrowed his eyes as he thought about the nickname, and for a moment Dean thought that he had made the boy mad. After all, he had seen his mother give that same (but much scarier) look to his father many times, and things never ended well when that look was involved. After another moment, however, the boy simply nodded and began to push his car around again.

"Ok…. Cas is fine."

Dean smiled in relief, and held out his hand in the same way that he had seen many adults do when meeting for the first time. "Cool! My name's Dean. Dean Winchester!"

Castiel nodded, completely missing the gesture, and instead responded with a simple, "Hello Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hey everybody! I'm going to go ahead and posted both chapters 1 and 2 since they're all ready. From this point on Pancake and I will be switching off every other chapter with writing. Pancake is half way through chapter 3 and we hope to get it up soon. Enjoy and review!

**August 1987 Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

**Roadhouse Nursery and Daycare**

It was a number of years before Dean saw Cas again. Three year precisely since he'd seen him and two years since the death of his mom in a late night house fire started by a faulty night light in Sam's nursery. After her death Dean's father John has hauled him and his brother Sam to Sioux Falls, South Dakota to be closer to family friends to help raise the boys.

He was sitting in time out in the corner of his daycare classroom. The teacher has practically dragged him there, almost ripped his arm off, after he had punched and bitten one of the other boys. It wasn't entirely his fault though. Well, okay, it was, but Gordon deserved it. He took Dean's baby and nearly flushed it down the toilet in the class bathroom. And nobody did that to his Impala and got away with it.

So there Dean was, stuck sitting on a lumpy three-legged stool facing the corner. He idly stared at the wall and figured he'd probably go crazy till he heard the gently flap of wings. He turned and saw Cas in his yellow raincoat sans hat.

Dean's teacher, Ms. Harvelle had half a mind to reprimand Dean when she saw him talking to himself but she figured it was better than him lashing out at the other kids. Though she did make a note to call Mr. Winchester and discuss his son's erratic behavior over the past couple of months.

"Castle?" Dean looked around to see if anybody else in the classroom noticed the arrival of the raincoat clad child, but nobody paid any mind to the lonely child in the corner.

"Castiel," the dark haired boy in a monotone that seems odd coming from the mouth of someone so young. "Hello Dean Winchester." Cas looked Dean up and down and then surveyed the room around him. "Why are you in the corner by yourself? Are you some kind of outcast? A leper perhaps?"

"What?! No! I'm no leopard!" half shouted. He winced at the loudness of his voice and looked around and saw Ms. Harvelle giving him a stern look and he turned his attention back to his corner. He hissed, "I'm no outcast. I'm in trouble s'all…."

"Oh," Cas turned to the young Winchester, "my apologies."

"What are you doing here anyways kid?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know. Seemed like a good place to be, lots of toys. So why are you in trouble anyways?"

"That dummy Gordon tried to flush my Impala down the toilet and no one hurts my baby!"

Cas gave a slight tilt of his head, "Impala? You have a bay named after a type of car?" Cas narrowed his eyes and Dean was reminded of the hazy memory of his mother's perplexed glares. "Aren't you too young to have children?"

"Wha-?" Dean sputtered. "What are you kid? I'm starting to think you're some kind of weirdo outcast."

At this comment Cas frowned as if seriously considering if he was in fact a weirdo. After a couple of seconds he straightened himself and shrugged. "I don't know what I am…..I just am."

Mrs. Harvelle made her way over to Dean. "Alright Dean. Your times up, you're free to go but no more hitting." Dean was thrilled at his release from time out. He looked over at Cas to ask him if he wanted to play but he was gone. In his place lay a lone black feather.

—Do-wee-ooo-ooo-wee-oo—-Time Jump—-Do-wee-ooo-ooo-wee-oo—-

A couple more months passed before Dean encountered Cas again. Dean was in the middle of a short writing assignment his teacher Ms. Harvelle had given the class for the weekend when he heard the gentle flutter of wings. Dean gave a furtive glance away from his assignment. "Hey kid," he said he before looking back down at his paper.

"Hello Dean. What are you doing?"

"Homework."

"What's homework?" Cas questioned.

"How do you not know what homework is kid? Don't you go to school?"

"Well I don't have this 'homework' where I'm from," Cas retorted with a flourish of air quotations.

Dean gave Cas a look like he'd sprung a second head. ""You're a strange guy, you know that right?"

"Dean? Who are you talking to in there?" a voice called from the kitchen. Bobby Singer walked into the living room where Dean was seated on the floor, with his stumpy legs splayed under the coffee table. Two year old Sam toddle along after him.

Dean was going to answer but seeing as Cas had disappeared he thought better of it. "Uh. No one Uncle Bobby."

"Well wash up for dinner. It's almost ready."

"Yes sir," Dean replied. "Um…Bobby. Do you know when my Dad will be back?"

"Hard to say son. Maybe a day or two. Can't say for sure." Bobby wasn't sure how to tell Dean that his father hadn't called since he'd left to find a job in Tulsa. He knew that if the job fell through John would likely take his sweet time returning. He hadn't been able to face the boys for more than a month's time since Mary's death. With the puppy eyes Dean was giving him Bobby didn't have to heart to say the truth. "I'm sure he'll call," Bobby finally mustered. "Now help your brother wash up." With that he walked back into the kitchen.

"Dean!" Sammy shouted gleefully. "Where's friend?"

"What friend?" Dean asked, holding out his arms to his little brother

"Friend," Sam squeaked, waddling into Dean's arms. "Hearimd you talk."

"Oh, Dean picked Sam up, blowing a few stray hairs out his face making him giggle. "I was just talking to myself. Because I'm silly like that."

Sam looked at his brother with big hazel eyes like he didn't believe him. "What?" Dean finally asked after about half a minute of staring.

"It ok," Sam said, patting Dean's face with a pudgy little hand. "I has 'magin friends too."

"What Sammy? What are you babbling about? I don't have any imaginary friends." They entered the downstairs bathroom of Bobby's house and Dean sat Sammy up on the sink. He took the little boy's hands, smiling at the squeals of glee he let out, and began to wipe his hands with a wet cloth.

"So who's your 'maginary friend?"

"I already told you Sammy. There's no imaginary friend. Imaginary friends are for babies."

With that comment Sammy began to holler and cry. "No they're not!" he wailed.

The younger Winchester continued to fuss until Dean finally said, "Okay no they're not."

Sammy stopped fussing and began to rub at his eyes. "So what's your friend like?" he asked, jumping right back into the conversation.

Dean gave a defeated sigh and set the washcloth down on the sink. "Well….he's kind of short. He has really dark, messy hair and he has a bright yellow raincoat with red boots kind of like Paddington bear. And he's really weird….kind of like you!" Dean said and began to tickle Sammy's sides. Sam let out a ridiculously loud squeal and laughed until Bobby came in to see what the hell was going on. He just shook his head and sent the boys out to the dining room where his wife was setting up their dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everyone thanks for the favs and reviews. Pancake is all done with chapter three so now it's my turn with chapter four. Hope to have it up soon. :)**

* * *

To Dean's surprise, Castiel didn't show up again after their last conversation. Not right away anyway. Dean figured that it was because he had gotten over whatever illness it was that had been causing him to hallucinate the boy. Of course he had been wrong. Because, five months after that thought to be final meeting, Dean found himself in the presence of the fuzzy headed child once more. Alarmed by the sudden appearance of Castiel in the back seat of his father's car, Dean's first instinct was to check on Sam, and make sure he was unharmed. The toddler was fast asleep, and completely unaware of the stranger that now sat next to him. His next instinct was to check on his father. Luckily, John was still in the motel lobby trying to make arrangements for a room that they would be staying in for the next few days.

"Hello Dean," Castiel stated in his typical monotone.

Dean turned around to face his hallucination, and scowled. "Not you again…"

The darker haired boy tilted his head in confusion at the less than friendly greeting, but looked neither hurt or offended by the other's tone. "You are irritated. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know." Dean waved a hand towards Cas, "Maybe because this figment of my imagination keeps showing up for reasons I don't understand! And, it's kind of freaking me out!"

" Is that what I am?" Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes in thought. "A figment?"

"It would explain why nobody else can see you…"

Castiel continued to think on this for a number of minutes before finally giving a satisfied nod, and looking back to Dean, "I suppose you could be right."

"Yeah…" Dean grumbled. "Why are you here anyways? Whadda ya want?"

"Nothing. You just seemed… lonely."

"What?" Dean asked, visibly flustered. "I am not lonely!"

At this response, Castiel simply hummed, and stared at Dean for a moment. Then for another. And, another until the blond boy began to feel self conscious and turned back towards the front of the car. Dean waited for a couple of minutes before his curiosity got the better of him, and he looked up into the review mirror, only to find that Castiel was still staring at him.

"You're a real creep, Cas. Ya know that?"

"I'm sorry." He didn't really sound sorry. "How do I refrain from being a… creep?" Cas tilted his head again, that contemplative look taking over his face once more.

"Well, you can stop all of that staring for one."

"Oh…"

Castiel lowered his eyes to the floor of the vehicle, and nudged his toe against one of the floor mats. There was an awkwardly long silence then, in which the dark haired boy looked about himself. He looked out the window. He looked to the ceiling. He looked at the seat in front of him. Then, finally, he looked to the side, and his eyes landed on the little boy sleeping next to him. Sam was curled around a rather ratty looking stuffed dog, and he was snoring ever so lightly.

"Dean…"

Dean sighed and looked back up at the mirror. "What, Cas?"

"Where's your mother?"

At first, Dean said nothing. He simply stared ahead, not really seeing anything passed the windshield of the car. Eventually, he felt something trail down his cheek, and blinked a few times, noticing the blur in his vision. Apparently he had began to cry. Snapping out of his trance, Dean began to curse quietly to himself, and rubbed at his eyes to remove any tears that may still be threatening to fall. Then, not wanting the other boy to see him in such a state, he turned to look out the passenger side window, and sighed in an attempt to further calm himself.

"She's dead, Cas…"

"Dead?" The other actually sounded slightly surprised by this news.

"Yeah. She died over three years ago. Where did you think she was?"

"I thought that your father and her may have taken a trip together. You were not in their company the last time that we met."

At this, Dean turned to glare at Castiel, and scoffed. "What? You thought they just went on some vacation? Well you were wrong. We weren't at Bobby's so they could go out an experience new places without us! We were there because our dad had a fit, and left us to-"

He wasn't exactly sure when he had started to shout, but it wasn't long before Sam had began to whine, and squirm around in his car seat. Dean immediately shut his mouth, all anger leaving his body, and he cast an apologetic look at the child. The toddler opened his eyes then, and squinted up at his brother through a sleepy haze. Then, he let out a squeak of a yawn, and blinked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Why Dean sad?" The child asked. "Did Cas hurt Dean?" Sam turned his head to look at the boy sitting next to him, and reached out an arm to give the other a few reprimanding pats on his shoulder. "No hurt Dean, Cas. Bad."

"I'm sorry Samuel. I didn't mean to upset your brother. I was simply curious. I shall think better before I speak next time." Cas said, accepting his punishment from the three year old.

Sam gave the dark haired boy a suspicious look, but eventually nodded his head, and returned his tired gaze to Dean.

"Sammy… You can see him?" Dean asked, motioning to the other boy. "Cas. You can see Cas?"

Sam nodded one last time before he could no longer force himself to stay awake, and let sleep claim him once more. Dean, on the other hand, continued to panic, and let out a nervous laugh. So, did this mean he wasn't crazy after all? Or, perhaps they both were? Whatever was happening, he didn't understand it, and he wasn't quite sure that he liked it.

"Listen Cas," Dean began as the door to the motel lobby opened. He turned to see his father waving thanks to the man at the front desk. Then, before he could turn back around to finish his thought, there was a sound of flapping wings, and the other boy was gone once more.

"What's the matter kid?" John asked when he got back to the car. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Dean wanted to tell his father about seeing Cas. He wanted to tell him that Sammy could also see him, but he knew better than to do so. The last time he had tried to tell his dad about seeing an imaginary friend, John's mood had changed quickly to anger, and he had told Dean to stop being stupid. So, instead, the seven year old put on his best smile, and made up some story about Sam startling him with a surprisingly loud yawn. John just laughed at that, and patted his son on the shoulder.

"My brave boy." He joked. "Now, come on and help me unload everything. I got us a room for the next four days while I try to find some work."

Dean nodded and hopped out of the car to help. He knew that his father wouldn't find work in this town. He hadn't found work in the last five towns, and he wouldn't find it in the next one either. Instead, he would go out, get drunk, and then return to the motel room at some odd hour to pass out on one of the beds. It happened almost every time. Dean wasn't too bothered by this though. As long as they were all together, as long as they remained a family, he would let his father drag them wherever he wanted to go.


End file.
